Missions


I’ve  been keeping up with our many friends who are starting their second week in Uganda. This is the second year MCO Charleston has gone to Uganda for the summer trip, working with PMI and the local church in Uganda. A whole lot of our doctor and student and PT/OT friends are running bush clinics. Despite their remote location, the wonders of technology never cease, and we’ve been able to read the blog updated most days by students on the team here: http://www.palmettomedical.org/blog/  We’ve also gotten a couple update emails from our daughter’s fantastic pediatrician, who is helping to lead the team. The stories bring back many memories of my long days in open air African clinics with lines of patients stretching farther than we could ever reach.

It has been hard for our friends in many ways, as they have had to turn away more than they are even able to see some days. One little boy died the first day, his needs extending beyond the resources they had available. Please pray that they will continue to have energy and wisdom to run the clinics well, that they would have the items and meds needed for the diseases that present, and that both Ugandans and the team would know the healing that is Christ. Also pray for travelling safety and protection from the stings of mosquitoes, tse-tse flies, and erring needles.

A couple of years ago, my husband gave me a tagine for Christmas. We had a number of medical friends who had just spent time in Northern Africa treating the ill and loving the lost (and ended up immunizing sheep as well!). Between my husband’s hospital requirements and my pregnancy, neither of us were able to join them that particular year, but the stories they brought back inspired prayer for the few Christians that do live and labor there.

One story our friends told was described by one of the missionaries who live in the region. He and his wife had come to North Africa to spread the Good News of the gospel of Christ. But their first weeks and months were frought with struggle, pain, and discouragement. She had fallen and been seriously injured, and the challenges to building relationships, not to mention sharing Christ, had seemed almost impossible. One day, a local villager they had been able to befriend wanted to show the missionary his garden. Intrigued by the possibility of anything green growing in the rocky, barren and dry landscape, the missionary followed him. Assured the spot was not far away, the villager led him several miles before they finally stopped at the villager’s home. He waved his arm to indicate the hill behind his home and proudly indicated that the hillside was his garden. The missionary looked, and saw that the dusty hillside had been carefully cleared of every rock. The ground had been broken up and plowed, the hostile soil carefully furrowed. But not a single spot of green or color broke the expanse of dry ground. He could see nothing growing. He turned to the villager, confused. 

“But is it dry, and nothing is growing.”

The villager looked at him with confidence, “Yes, right now it is dry. But one day, perhaps it will rain. When it does, my garden is ready.”

The missionary returned home stunned by the blind faith of preparing a garden in what could only be currently described as a desert, and in a moment of clarity saw the allegory the villager had painted, unknowingly, to the missionary. He and his wife were preparing a garden in the desert as well, and finding the soil to be rocky, dry and unwelcoming did not mean that the rain would never come. 

Those missionaries and many others labor in dark places to till the soil, remove the rocks, and plant the seeds, as they wait and hope for the rain to come, for Hope to spring forth from the barren ground. They covet our prayers.

My little family has “international night” every couple of weeks or so, when I prepare the food of a particular part of the world, we pray for the people there, missionaries we know and those lost in darkness, and try to educate ourselves a little more about what that country is like. As our daughter grows older we hope to cultivate a love for the nations through exercises like this.

This past weekend I cooked Moroccan, and even had plenty to share with friends. Of all the Moroccan tagines I’ve cooked, I think this time I uncovered my favorite combination of spices and ingredients. Moroccan cuisine is known for the sweet taste of fruit and the savory warm spices. It’s not a hot type of spicy, so if you are aren’t into your mouth being on fire don’t worry, just keep the cayenne pepper to a minimum.  If you don’t have a tagine, the traditional moroccan oven of choice, you could easily cook this in a covered non-stick pot on the stovetop. I’ve also heard of people using slow-cookers for moroccan dishes.

This recipe is an absolute MUST to try. It is sweet, savory, and quite healthy. It is perhaps my new FAVORITE dish to make. If you don’t own some of these spices, they are worth the investment, since you’ll make this dish over and over again! Everyone loved it, including my 15 month old!

Moroccan Tagine

  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 2 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves – cut into chunks (can easily leave this out for a great veg dish)
  • 1/2 onion, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/3 cup apricots (I use canned but if you have fresh ones give it a try)
  • 1 small butternut squash, peeled and chopped (or 2 peeled and cubed sweet potatoes)
  • 1 (15.5 ounce) can garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
  • 5-10 baby carrots
  • 1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes with juice
  • 1.5 cups chicken broth (or one 14 oz can)
  • 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon ground coriander
  • 1 dash cayenne pepper
  • 1/2 tsp tumeric
  • 1/2 tsp cumin
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1. Heat the olive oil over medium high heat in a large non-sticking pot (or tagine base). Brown the garlic, chicken, and onion, until the onion is soften and the chicken browned on all sides, about 10 minutes

    2. Once the onion is soft and the chicken browned, add the butternut squash, garbanzo beans, tomatoes and juice, broth, lemon juice, and apricots. Add the rest of the spices listed above, and mix well.

    3. Allow the mixture to come to a boil, then adjust the heat to a low simmer. Cover and allow to cook slowly until the vegetables are soft and the chiken done. This will take around 30 minutes.

    You can serve this by dishing it over some plain cooked couscous, or just rice. In Morocco, people eat this sort of thing with their bare hands, but you can use a fork and spoon. To complete the Moroccan theme enjoy some mint tea after dinner. To learn more about Morroco and other coutries at your own family’s “international night,” Operation World has a great website with details to help you pray for each country. Just click on the continent and choose the country.

    Something happens to us Americans over Christmas. We feast. We present gifts to family and friends. We receive from family and friends. We feast again. We are given and give piles of baked goods, candy, chocolates, and sweets.  Then we feast on them, too. Even with our current economy, I’m willing to bet everyone who is high enough on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and with the leisure time to read this post certainly has a roof over their head, a bed to sleep in, and food in the fridge. Not to mention plumbing and electricity. We are, especially on these days after Christmas, at our most super-saturated state as Americans.

    We are even supersaturated in our spiritual state. Many of us are cognizant in our giving and receiving of the extravagance of God. The outrageous gift of His Presence in the humble and fragile capacity in which He is with us in the incarnation. Many of us have enjoyed Advent readings this month, beginning with reading prophecies surrounding the coming of our Messiah and building up to climactic celebrations by candlelight singing some of our favorite hymns.

    Yet as the candles die out, the trees begin to dry, and our waistlines grow uncomfortable from the feasting, we are cognizant of our discontent. We flick on the news, check facebook and emails. We emerge from our haze of excess to a world that is no less broken and hurting. Missionaries labor in dark lands, isolated from fellowship. Orphans languish in the third world, and in our own foster system. Our own countrymen fighting in the hills of Afghanistan faced casualties and life-altering injuries even as we were feasting.  

    So here we are, the day after Christmas, awakening to a clearing fog. Stores are full of return lines and clearance decorations. I ran into Target for milk tonight on the way back into town after we arrived back from our tour across the Lowcountry visiting family over the past few days. The push for the next holiday of commercialism (Valentines’s) has already begun. Come January 1st we’ll make our resolutions, most of which somehow or another end up connected to our love-hate relationship with excess. These few days between Christmas and the New Year are their own entity.

    There is also, during these few days, an opportunity frequently referred to as Year End Giving. Here we can find a path to turning outward again. Since our tax year ends as the calendar year does, this is when many families schedule their decisions regarding most of their financial gifts to charities, both Christian and secular. Out of our super-saturated American life, sweeter than my mamma’s iced tea, we can pour out into the needs of others. We can plan this time of year to be full of gifts beyond the toys and the ipods and the excess. We can choose to reach those with actual need, to put food in empty stomachs and hope to those in darkness. We can encourage our missionaries.

    Yet how materialistic of us to presume that the route to helping is only through our wallet. Do we not believe God’s sovereignty works through our prayers in some mysterious and beautiful way? Do we not seek His face in the midst of intercession? As we write checks and put them in the mail, let us resolve to be intercessors. The opportunities are countless. A couple weeks ago, I received the following email from a missionary with whom I once worked doing medical missions in the jungles of Venezuela.   I’ve omitted his name, but since he asked for help spreading the need for prayer, I am posting his letter.

    Dear Brothers,
    It is a blessing to be able to write you. Many people receiving this letter has been a part of our ministry in one way or another and many have been to Venezuela. Thanks for your friendship and ministry.
     
    This letter is not a request for financial support. Financially we are ok. You don’t need to send money. Nor is it a request for teams or solicitation for anything….except prayer! I am writing to inform some and update others about the situation in Venezuela and our ministry in particular. And I truly need prayer and help in establishing intercession for Venezuela….. not just a reassurance “we’re praying for you.” I hope you will make us an object of intercession and utilize your churches, ministries, or contacts to stimulate regular and consistent prayer.
     
    So what is going on here? The government is in the process of establishing cuban style communism. It is a dictatorship with only a facade of democracy. Land is being expropriated which is a fancy word for stolen. Banks are failing. We are experiencing a crime wave that is out of control. There are political killings. Many pastors realize the next step is the government closing churches.
    In fact we are having to prepare plans for the church to continue in homes only.
     
    And it is personal. I have friends injured today in a fight between the National Guard and landowners. I have friends who have lost their farm to expropriation. Church members who have had their cars shot. Others tear gased in protests. I have been visited by a government lawyer to warn me that I should be quiet because it would be bad for me if I was arrested for opposing the government since I am an American. People have had their land invaded by squatters. People can’t leave their home alone because they will be taken. Several weeks ago ****’s mom was attacked in the day…
    money was stolen and a niece was injured. Businesses are robbed and people killed in the middle of the day. The least of our problems are the power outages most days, water shortage, and food shortages… we have food jsst some items are missing.
     
    Why don’t we leave? Sounds like a plan to me. But there are several reasons we CAN”T leave. God called us here. We can’t desert our assignment. Our adopted daughter doesn’t have a passport and we still lack required legal documents and court authorizations. A family can’t leave a daughter behind. Even if all of that was solved…what about ****’s family?..our church and friends?…. We have been here 11 years, so we have to make our stand here. I have no option but to win this battle and war.
     
    We have organized prayer groups here. We are truly praying for our lives. We have formed relationships with pastors and churches so we can pray together. We are doing many things to get the spiritual victory. Now I am calling on the International community to help us. You know me and know Venezuela. I need you to contact others, get people praying… Pray for our protection and do warfare to free Venezuela from this satanic attack.
     
    I will be sending email updates with points for prayer. You can forward them or send me email addresses for updates. I have started a website www.venvision.wordpress.com with regular updates. Other websites are planned. And I am open to suggestions.
     
    Zechariah 4:6 “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts.”
    The government may have the power, military might, guns, prisons…. but we, the church, have the Spirit of God. I like our chances. I can make a stand with that promise!
     
    Dios te bendiga,
    *****
    Iglesia Torre Fuerte
     

    A few days ago, I listened to an interesting interview on the True Woman blog  in which the following question was discussed: Should a Christian young woman with a desire for marriage and a family set out to attend medical school and become a physician? Carolyn McCulley linked to it and invited comments and feedback regarding the issue on her site. Since a small comment box hardly sufficed to contain my opinions, experience and thoughts on the matter, I thought I’d respond with a post.

    This is a question I’ve been asked before, and it is an important and valid concern.  I left my internal medicine residency when I was pregnant with my first child to be at home full-time, in lieu of continuing for further specialization beyond my general practitioner licensure, so I’ve thought about the issue a lot. I have a daughter, and I often consider how I’d advise her if she considered following her father’s and my footsteps. Here are some of my thoughts and opinions on the matter, given my current experiences and understanding of Scripture. This is not a “yes” or “no” question, so I will divide this into some of the topics that need to be thought about.

     

    1.      Single women who are considering becoming a physician or other profession are often cautioned to wait because they desire marriage and children. But is it really advisable to avoid education and career because you might start something that you later stop? We live in a broken world, in which the healthy desire for marriage and family isn’t always completed this side of heaven. So why should a woman who is single sit around waiting rather that reaching beyond herself for more opportunities to impact lives with the love of Christ? Often we desire the path of our lives to be clear and strait, so that we can see the end of it and walk knowing what comes next. But God frequently shapes our path in a manner that is twisting and curved, and the weather is sometimes foggy. Often we cannot see ahead except to take the next step of obedience, and only then are we to see where to go from there. 

    Such was my path into medicine. I initially considered a research field in virology, and loved philosophy, to the extent I obtained two degrees while in college (Grove City)—Philosophy and Molecular Biology. They were two different worlds, which I now find merged in my grappling with bioethics. Anyway, in college I took a trip to East Africa with a handful of other pre-meds, our anatomy professor , and an MD, who’d formerly worked there as a missionary. We went to a different village every day, each of us doing rudimentary exams in huts and under trees, then presenting and reviewing each patient with the physician before offering treatment and praying with patients. Sometimes there were hundreds of people waiting to see our little group, following us from village to village hoping to make it into the clinic. It was there in the bush of Tanzania that I knew first what the next step of obedience would be. Of course marriage was a desire for me, though at the time I had no prospects, and no reason to expect any.  I knew then that if I were ever to have the opportunity to have children and family, I would want to stay at home with them as much as possible. I really didn’t know how that would be possible, as it appeared to conflict with what seemed to be a calling into medicine, but after much prayer I moved forward into the only obedient step that was visible. After entering medical school, I was quickly gripped by the realization that I had already entered the mission field. I invited other female med students to study the bible with me and my roommates, a nurse and an occupational therapist. That first year of medical school I saw four of my female classmates come to faith in Christ.

    2.        A Christian woman considering medical school should honestly evaluate what her motives are in seeking this kind of career. Prayerfully seek to differentiate between God’s calling and her own desires. This is, of course, very hard to do at times. Books and books have been written about it, which would likely be helpful to read, after the Bible of course.

    Is there a desire for respect, identity and independence? A desire to be called “Doctor” and wear a long white coat? When I was in the act of leaving my residency, another female physician told me she could never do what I was doing because “My identity is being a doctor.”  But remember the temptation to base your identity on the roles you fill cannot be escaped simply by staying at home. The homemaker may be tempted to elevate her skill as a cook or a mother and disciplinarian over her identity in Christ. If a woman finds that she is seeking a career only as an avenue to building an identity she finds appealing, then her motives are amiss.

    Perhaps, however, a woman has been through significant illness herself, and has vast resources of compassion to channel toward the ill through her life experiences. Or perhaps God has given her a distinct desire to serve people through comfort and healing. Maybe there is a strong pull towards the mission field in a developing country, and she realizes how practical the hands of a physician would be in that setting.  Muslim women will often only see a woman physician. There are many women medical missionaries who have been used greatly in these settings.  In fact, some of the first women physicians entered the field for those purposes. I have read numerous biographies of such women and perhaps I’ll post about them in the future.

    3.      Student Loans. I can tell you that there are woman doctors who are working incredibly hard with kids at home, simply because they are trapped. Their hearts’ cry is to be at home with their kids, but loan payments are too high for them to get by on only their husband’s income. We aren’t talking about tens of thousands of dollars here, people. We are talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars.

    Obviously debt should always be avoided if at all possible. But it is hard to ignore the fact that in our society the means most students use to seek higher education is via student loans, and such loans are often described as “good” debt. These concepts are discussed in great detail in many other places in print and online, and I won’t attempt to further delve into the issue here.

    But think outside the box for a moment. Do we not believe it is possible for God to call a woman into medicine to serve Him, even while accruing debt, all the while praying and trusting for God to be her provider and the provider for her children? Any woman who enters a career should carry on with the thought in the back of her head that God could call her to leave it for a time, or even permanently, when and if she marries and has kids. She should pray and plan for that day, even if it appears far off. I can attest to the fact that God answered that prayer in my life, something I prayed about even as I applied and interviewed for medical school. He is my provider, and provided a way for me to be at home through my husband’s provision.  Some ask me: Doesn’t it feel awful, though, to have to be on the receiving end of that? Don’t you wish you could help economically? To that I would answer: Isn’t this another way for my husband to love me like Christ loved the church? To pay my debts? What an allegory of His grace which would not be possible otherwise.  

    Also, can I look at the spread of the gospel in my medical school class as something that I can put a price tag on? Can I regret my loans when I look at how God used me (despite myself!) in the conversions of others? Also, when looking into future third world missions, an organization called MedSend is well known to help new physicians take positions on the mission field by paying their loan payments while they are abroad. So that obstacle is removed for many.

    4.      Seasons. A lot of us Christian women physicians like to think about our lives and our careers as having seasons. And trusting that God works through those times.  I am now in a season of life where I have the pleasure of spending my days with a beautiful little girl. I read her books as long as I can hold her attention. I tell her stories. I teach her sign language and take her to the aquarium. I look forward to the day she can talk to me more.  Occasionally during this season I’ll do something medical. I may teach physical diagnosis at the medical school for two hours a week next semester while my daughter naps, for instance. But when I had a child, there was no doubt in my mind that after my husband, she was my first calling. I have heard other Christian docs tell me that they view their choice to work full-time as their “ministry” though they have kids at home. They are financially able to cut back on work hours, yet choose not to, pointing out that their kids are healthy and doing fine. From my perspective,  no ministry calling is as high a priority as my family, and there is no other mother for my child besides me, though there are many other physicians that can take my place at the patient’s bedside. I do not know how I could teach my daugther about God ”when I sit in my house and when I walk by the way, and when I lie down, and when I rise” (Deut 6:7) if the majority of every day was spent away from her.

    5.      People often infer or ask me if I think my education was wasted. My first response is that I don’t believe in a God of waste. He had his purposes for my time as a full-time physician, and He has already used that time in big ways. I’ve had the joy of treating patients all over the world, and sharing Christ with them as I dispense physical remedies. I also have the unique situation of being better equipped as a help-mate for my husband than I would be had I never practiced medicine. He is almost done with his training as an adult Hematology/Oncology physician. Every day he takes care of cancer patients. This is a field where success is measured in weeks and months of life extended, rather than years and decades. The emotional and spiritual intensity of this field is immense. There isn’t a way to explain what being the bearer of bad news feels like, especially telling people they are dying, or that they have cancer, and then treating them as they deny it. I’m grateful I know better how to love him, that I have insight into his work. In many ways my reading in bioethics is another way to deepen my ability to support his work.

    My education is also used in my discipleship of medical students. They tend to listen to those of us who have gone before them, for better or for worse. Also, I feel better equipped than any school to educate my daughter, and perhaps I will end up homeschooling, though I don’t know for sure yet. I read an Indian proverb once that said this: “Educate a man, and you educate an individual. Educate a woman, and you educate a family.”

    Many recommend that women physicians who step out of full-time clinical work keep a hand in it by seeing patients even as infrequently as once as month, since the skills and knowledge can fade and be lost over time. To work this small amount is rarely possible. For about a year I spent a half day a week seeing patients in a Christian free clinic for the poor, while my daughter spent most of the afternoon napping at a friend’s house. Kind of like my own version of “mom’s morning out.” Currently, however, I’m not practicing at all. But I don’t believe in a God of waste. He has and continues to use my education in ways that are unexpected and exciting, and even if I never practice traditional clinical medicine again, I rejoice at the path He led me down, and rejoice in my current calling as a homemaker as well.

    6.      In the interview I listened to, referenced above, one speaker mentioned the concern that women who enter medical training are investing their most physically and relationally fertile years in a time of intense training. Indeed , that time is quite intensive. But medical school doesn’t have to be a relationally barren time. I can say that the many years I spent in medical training were incredibly fruitful relationally. For one thing, I met my husband in medical school! He claims it was over a dead body in gross anatomy, but I think we first met in Sunday School. Either way, we were co-laborers in our class along with the other Christians we met there. The group of us found ourselves thrown into the kind of close relationships with non-believers that are forged only through shared adversity. At the end of each year, we took a medical missions trip together to a third world country, inviting our non-Christian friends to join us. Many came to be transformed and are now following Christ. I am grateful to be a part of small group Bible studies and discipleship with female medical students for eight years now. Currently I meet with a group of women students to teach Romans along with a pediatrician friend of mine on Tuesday nights.

    The concern about fertility is valid. I spoke with an OB friend of mine recently who lamented that a lot of her friends in medicine didn’t realize that fertility rates actually start to drop after the age of 30. So women who wait until they are out of residency at 29 and then start to have kids could face more trouble.  But pregnancy during residency is not without risk. I stopped residency when I was still pregnant for that very reason—I was dealing with more risks than I was comfortable exposing my child to, and my residency program refused to switch me into outpatient rotations that would have resolved my concerns. This is one reason that I have trouble encouraging women who are married and planning on kids to start out in medical training.

    7.      Some have raised the concern that women who enter traditionally male careers by becoming physicians, lawyers, or engineers might have a difficult time avoiding the qualities that success in these careers tend to foster. That these women would be more likely to lose femininity by becoming assertive, tenacious, driven, and that they would hold authority over men. To me this seems no different than the common struggles all Christians have who are called to be “in the world, but not of it.” I have seen Christian female medical students spend their afternoons hand feeding ill patients with the kindness and hospitality of Proverbs 31. I have watched women physicians who cultivated the mind of Christ quietly serve by washing the dirty feet of AIDS patients. I have worked next to a medical missionary as she gave her life away to lepers in northern Tanzania. By entering the profession of medicine, women can bring tenderness, compassion and gentleness that is not possible in a profession that is male-only.

    Women everywhere and in every walk are tempted to grasp at autonomy, to reject submission. This issue is not unique to the professional women, and cannot be avoided by avoiding a professional life.

    So those are my thoughts about the issue at hand. No role we fill, whether we kneel at the bedsides of the ill and treat their disease in the name of Christ, or spend our days caring for the tiny needs of our newborn, can fulfill the deep need for true identity that can be found only in Christ.

    No one else can decide for an individual the path God is calling her to. She may wish that there was simply a sign post along the road or a Christian authority she can turn to for direction. But those would rob her of the opportunity to learn trust and deepen her relationship with the Lord by walking through the decision process and drawing closer to the heart of God.

    This morning, for several reasons, I was thinking about Africa. Perusing photos from a recent medical missions trip some friends of mine made, memories of my times on the contitent broke over me like waves. I almost smelled the wild sage as our jeep drove across parts of the Vendi region of South Africa, and remember the face of hospitality in a tiny hut on the shores of Lake Victoria.

    Then I happened across Justin Taylor’s blog and read some thoughts about why aid to africa isn’t working, and it got me thinking.

    I’ve gone to Africa with a stethascope and bags of medicine enough times to know that the current strategy of putting bandaids on a gaping wound isn’t going to cut it.

    The thing about it is that whether you are there or here, the need is ever present. There it is in the form babies dying in front of me with cerebral malaria and adults thin as rails from aids. Here it is in the long, drawn out nightmare that is alzheimer’s and the painfully extended deaths we elicit in our hospitals while flogging our dying with tubing and painful procedures.

    The thing about approaching all this as Christ would is we fight agaist it as hard as we can because He called us to, and we do it in his name, offering cups of water as we are equipped. But the thing about it is still the crux of the gospel itself: all our striving will never be enough. The day we think we can solve it ourselves is the day that we stop relying on Him to be glorified in the midst of all the mess we make with the gifts He’s given, despite ourselves.

    So we lift up our heads in the midst of all the muck of the decay and pain around us, fixing our eyes on the prize set before us, on the face of the One who has called us to fight the good fight and finish this race.